


Winter for the Wolves

by Silberias



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bran is King in the North, F/M, From seeing photos of the Starklings all together recently on tumblr, Jon abdicates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: Arya returns to Winterfell.





	Winter for the Wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueCichlid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCichlid/gifts).



> For Blue who was feeling blue. Short, probably not the greatest thing ever, but I hope you enjoy it!

Sansa and Jon had each already learned that Bran was a man grown just the same as they were grown. He made do every day, commissioning items he needed or creating them himself, and ensuring that Winterfell ran as steadily as it had under their father, Lord Eddard, during their childhood. He was hard and quiet like Eddard had been, but there was Ned's cautious warmth in him as well. It was no slight when men looked to him over Jon but a measure of his maturity and quality.

He was King in the North, Jon having abdicated in favor of the trueborn Stark, and married to a fine Northron lady in the figure of Lyanna Mormont--a mere girl, still, and one he'd not yet even set eyes on. She had written him an offer of her hand and he had accepted, pledging his oath before the heart tree of Winterfell and sending a wedding cloak to Bear Island. Jon he promised to Wynafryd Manderly, inviting Wylla Manderly to stay at Winterfell with her sister until the wedding, taking great joy in the cleverness of both sisters and their sharp wits. Sansa he refused to betroth, his replies brusque and as bitter as the winter winds.

Arya knew little of any of this.

When Arya returned to them in the middle of the night--breaking into the dungeons and trying to murder the last few traitors kept down there--she battled with several of the watchmen until Summer bounded into the fray and knocked her to the ground. The direwolf watched her curiously for a long few moments before giving a happy whine and licking her face all over. It didn't let her up but otherwise it behaved like a gamboling pup.

Jon was roused from his chamber and he joined a gaggle of servants and men at arms who surrounded her, his eyes wide as he heard the whispers that it was Arya Stark come home to Winterfell. He heaved in a gasp at the sight of her, letting it out in a billowing cloud as he saw her and recognized her. Her hair was badly cut and greasy, her face marked with a few childish pocks, and her clothing was half-rags but she was his sister. The same scamp as he'd left behind years ago. It didn't matter who his mother was so long as he had his father's daughter back.

Sansa wept, many minutes later after Jon sent a servant for her and another for Bran, and her tears brought Arya's own. They sat before the hearth in the great hall, holding one another as Jon threw a few logs on the unbanked coals to warm the room once more. In the firelight Arya's cheeks were as thin as Sansa's had once been, and a scar marred her lip where once there had only been a child's grin. Summer turned skittish and Jon knew that Bran was awake, so he coaxed the creature forward once more to sniff at his now-found sister. Direwolves never forgot a scent, he'd once been told by a compatriot of the Free Folk, especially pack. Soon enough Summer settled down, a few feet from their knot of people but his tail batted back and forth to show his contentment.

Bran arrived carried by Brienne of Tarth with Hodor following closely after with his wheeled chair. A gift for his wedding from the Prince of Dorne, _from one crippled king to another_ the letter attached had said. Bran wore his hair long and it was a downy mess around his head from sleep but his eyes were sharp and inquisitive. Arya's sob broke Jon's heart and had Sansa looking studiously at her lap as her sister slowly stood up. Her dirty clothing and hair contrasted the simple but fine way that Bran presented himself, even in relative undress as he was now.  

"Arya," his voice was warm as he reached out a hand to bring her close. She knelt down next to his chair, holding his hand gently and murmuring half-spoken words that only Bran could probably hear. The servants drifted away respectfully as Arya calmed herself enough to speak.

"I couldn't come back until I avenged us all. I had a list, but I always meant to come home, I'm sorry I left you for so long. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. Your--your legs..."

Bran listened, his kingly expression settling firmly on his face as Arya poured her heart out. He betrayed nothing as she spoke, only watched her. Finally she had no more words, no more bloody acts she'd carried out, no more horrors she'd witnessed, no more journeys taken or friends lost, no more tears for her 'broken' brother.

"The pack survives," he said softly, his tone warm, "Arya, the pack survives. The winter picked some off, but not all. You survived, that is all the protection I can ask from you because that is all I can ask of myself."

Arya's tears did not return but she clenched her jaw at Bran's words as she stared up at him. Bran's face was still serious and solemn but his voice stayed friendly, even a little teasing.

"After all what need has the winter of legs?"


End file.
